My captor inhaled deeply. “What is that fragrance? It’s delightful!”
I turned away, had my head forced back around.
“Tell me.”
I grimaced as their grip and grin tightened.
I gently exhaled. “Esprit des lames.”
“That a breath freshener?”
“Nanite-based.”
A frown formed. “Nanites?”
“It’s a hypergolic, means ‘Spirit of Blades.’” I sat up as straight as the bonds allowed. “Though you should pre-breathe the inhibitor first.”
“Inhibitor? Wait. Blades…what?”
I smiled. “Gets messy otherwise.”
My captor coughed, dropped to their knees, vomited bloody bile.
“And super painful. Just wait till those little buggers start carving up your nerves!”
Originally published in Dark Stars.
Marc A. Criley lives in north Alabama, started writing later in life, and is making up for lost time. He’s been published in Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Galaxy’s Edge, here in Martian Magazine, and elsewhere. Marc blogs at kickin-the-darkness.com and social medias on Mastodon as @MarcC@wandering.shop.
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